Caught by Emma Louise

Chapter Nine

Slamming my purse onto the glass-topped reception desk, I get a sick sense of satisfaction seeing the long scratches the buckle causes as it scrapes over the no longer pristine surface.

Fuck you, Max Arden. I think to myself as I throw my cell phone, keys, and wallet into the open bag. Tagging my coat from the rack next to the front door, I race out of Elite like my ass is on fire. Or as if my battered heart just got stomped on.

It isn't my problem.

The heartless words spiral through my head on an infinite loop. I was utterly mortified to find I’d flipped Felix to his back in the park last weekend. I did the fight part and was very ready to get to the flight part of the plan, but there was something in the shocked voice that I recognized. I hesitated long enough to look down at the attacker. I had to do a double take because my brain refused to acknowledge that it was Felix rolling around on the ground at my feet, not the guy from the coffee shop. Once I helped him to his feet and onto a nearby bench, I felt the least I could do was be honest with Felix about why I acted like a crazy person. Thankfully, Cass decided to go and play, so she missed all of the excitement. Once he caught his breath, I explained the situation to Felix. When I was done, he followed us back to our apartment, making sure nobody was following us, or hanging around and waiting for us to get home. He made sure we made it inside safely before he left, only to return an hour later armed with new locks for the flimsy front door.

Cass and I stood quietly and watched while he took the time to make sure we were at least a little safer. Stupidly, I let that act of kindness lull me into a false sense of security. I arrived at Elite armed with a tray of coffees and a box of donuts for the guys. I knew Felix would share what had happened, but for once I was okay with letting my vulnerability show. I let my guard slip thinking I would be safe to do so. That’s why hearing Max’s easy dismissal of what had happened to me and Cass stung. Was that justification for walking out of the office without a word before the workday had even begun? Probably not, but it was that or tell Max to shove his job up his ass, and there’s no way I'm giving him the satisfaction of letting him believe he finally broke me down and made me quit.

The long walk back to my apartment does little to soothe the fire that’s burning deep in my gut. Max being a dick shouldn’t have surprised me; he’s been open in his disdain toward me, but hearing him being so open with his dislike in front of others, hearing it in his voice, that hurt. The blank, detached look in his eyes as he said helping to keep my baby safe wasn’t his problem was the most shocking thing.

I’m still a long way from home, and I should probably turn around and go back to the office, but I don’t want to see him or anyone else. Not yet. Instead, I pull out my phone so I can call Crew to apologize. To my surprise I find he’s already sent me a text.

Crew: Max is an ass, don’t listen to him. Take the rest of the day, and we’ll see you back here tomorrow.

My fingers fly over the screen, typing out the response my gut tells me to before I can stop them.I quit. My hurried steps falter as I stare down at the message.

Hit send, Darcey. I will myself to do it. You don’t need this shit. My thumb hovers over the send button, but for some dumb reason, I hit the back arrow instead, watching as the words disappear.

Me: Thank you. See you tomorrow.

I type instead. I think about messaging Felix too, wanting him to know I’m okay and that I'm grateful for him and his attempts to defend me earlier. I’m suddenly feeling exhausted as the insanity of the last few days catches up with me. I’m going to head home, take a long, hot, uninterrupted bath and an even longer nap while Cass is in Kindergarten. Taking advantage of the warm day, I slow my pace and pull out my earphones so I can listen to my favorite true crime podcast as I walk the rest of the way home. By the time I'm climbing the worn concrete stairs to my apartment, I’m finally feeling a little more in control of myself. I’m so caught up on the story that’s being recounted in my ears, so caught up in the escape it provides that I fail to notice I’m not alone as I approach my front door.

This time it’s me who isn’t prepared.

This time it’s me who’s grabbed and flung to the ground like a discarded ragdoll.

There’s no time for me to fight back before my head bounces off the cold, hard floor, and the punishing weight of a fist hitting the side of my face has my world turning black.